Full Circle: The Dance Series
by MalibuSwede
Summary: Some of the most intimate and meaningful encounters between Pacey and Joey occurred when they were dancing. Here are a few of those moments; their relationship as seen through the dance. Complete.
1. Chapter One: It

_Just a musing on that first dance encounter at The Starlight and the true meaning of "It". DC canon notwithstanding, it only takes two to tango!_

**Chapter One**

**It,** happened dancing. There had always been something between them, a back and forth banter that bordered on irritating when at their worst together or intimate and downright flirtatious when at their best. They chalked it up to the years; they had been chasing after each other since kindergarten.

But It…this was something new—at the very least, something that could no longer be denied. It, happened in a single moment…a single look…a single caress. It, was attraction, chemistry, fireworks.

She came back for him. She said she forgot her coat, but she looked around for him. And when she saw him sitting there, sorrowful and dejected, beating himself up over the caustic exchange that had occurred between them only minutes before—she couldn't resist the urge to go in and tell him she had decided "to take pity" on her poor testosterone-impaired partner.

He smiled, amazed that she would give him a second chance after making such a juvenile blunder, flaunting a no-holds-barred, no-emotions-involved sex pact with a mutual friend.

She held out her hand, surprised to see him so affected by this modest falling out. In the grand scheme of all things Potter and Witter, it was nothing compared to the full-fledged warfare of their childhood years when both delighted at making each other uncomfortable, on edge, constantly searching for something…better.

And yet it was different; they were different. All that pushing and pulling and tugging at each other had evolved into something far more meaningful and tender. She told herself she was needy and he was just compensating for the loss of an important romantic relationship. He rationalized that she was being uncharacteristically nice, lulled into her even temper by a weariness with all that had gone wrong in her young life; this could never be about _him._

It, had been happening all year. Somewhere along the line, they had stopped following the dominant path and embarked on their own journey of snails and tidepools and first kisses…of special moments between them that they refused to acknowledge had any real significance.

They had, in fact, fled in opposite directions only to find themselves here, at The Starlight, chasing after an elusive scholarship for her whilst she resuscitated his flailing academic career during late afternoons and early evenings. Dance classes, study sessions, home improvement…any reason they found to spend time together without admitting the obvious. But It was there.

Sparks had begun to fly.

How was that possible?

Between them?

It, was not only possible—It, was inevitable.

She, the tall-legged beauty of the doe-eyed variety, her intelligence etched into a furrowed brow, further evidenced in that most sarcastic, charmingly lopsided smile; she could shoot daggers with those eyes, but when they were focused on him, he found it increasingly difficult to put up his usual witty defense.

He, the lanky heartstopper of the Sexiest Man Alive variety, his sensitivity and vulnerability offset by his goofy sidekick status; his sparkling blue-green eyes changing in color with his moods: scintillating blue, penetrating azure, breathtaking midnight. Lately, she had found herself afraid to look into those eyes, far too anxious about what might be reflected back.

Insecure, unsure, fearful about transitions, both continued to play their cat and mouse verbal sparring game, and both found stability in the fronts they had erected. Which is why the dancing unsettled them. Dancing didn't allow for rigid defenses, dancing was about fluid proximity; dancing was about watching and listening and _feeling_—anticipating one another. They could joke and make excuses, but sooner or later their eyes would have to meet. And then…

It, happened. A moment, a look, a touch. He took her hand and they walked out of the room, refusing an opportunity for more dance instruction, and instead taking advantage of the opportunity to extend this subtle dance between them. Down the steps, across the street, along the chain of ropes and posts that marked the marina—fingertips touching fingertips, tactilely communicating everything they were afraid to articulate on their leisurely walk home.

One simple, perfect moment.

There would be detours along the way, brief flirtations to avoid the complications of what seemed to be a misguided union, but in reflection both knew down to the exact millisecond when things had changed. And it made them smile. Because Penny Pretty was right after all: the dancing doesn't lie. The dancing was all about…

**It.**


	2. Chapter Two: The Dance

_Of all the wonderful, romantic—sometimes gut-wrenching—moments between Joey and Pacey, this one always struck me as the most poignant and affecting one. Every time I see it, I am struck by the emotion that spills from the TV screen. IMHO, it is one of the most touching dramatic moments on television._

**Chapter Two**

You have to take the first step, Jack told me. Dawson and Pacey will never bridge that gap on their own. The first step is obvious—I need to extend a hand to the one who has felt left out of everything ever since we broke up. Walking back into the restaurant, I feel lucky because he's sitting alone. Poor Pacey. He looks so sad, so…not Pacey.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_I've been meaning to ask you something all night, Pacey," she said. He looked up expectantly a mere swallow washed away dejection and replaced it with hope. "Would you like to dance with me?" His eyes settled on her hand wrapped gently around his. "Yes," he said as a discreet smile danced across his face._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I take his hand in mine and can already feel the need. Mine. We're touching; I've missed him touching me. I miss… No, I can't be thinking about this. This is not about me or him, it's about the three of us. Friends. Uncertainty has clouded my face. Maybe this was a bad idea. I shouldn't…

I don't care. I turn to face him on the dance floor and the familiar heat ignites between us. I cast my eyes downward, afraid that if I even look at him right now I'll lose control and ruin everything. We begin dancing.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"How come this feels so right?" he asked. His voice was dripping with heartrending sincerity. "I think it was those dance lessons," she said, returning his sentiment with a smile meant exclusively for him._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

My smile is the mask I wear while I struggle with my true feelings. I suppress them deep…deeper.

A modest chuckle escapes my lips as a remembrance washes over me. It's the first time we danced together—not at Penny Pretty's studio, but during 6th grade gym class when we were too young to worry about the personal space between us and Pacey merrily swept me around the practice room. He led and I followed…until Miss Sperling yelled at us for not sticking to the box. "It's a waltz and this is your box," she pointed out on the floor. "One!" Tap. "Two!" Tap. "Three!" Tap. "Four…"

He was so cute.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_He brought his hand up to her face and cradled the diamond earring dangling from her right ear. "Where did you get these?" he asked. "They're not you." _

_Her eyes captured his as she questioned the meaning of those words. "Why?" she asked. "Because I'm just a poor tomboy or 'cause Dawson gave them to me?" She looked down again, humbled for reasons she couldn't begin to articulate. _

"_Neither," he said, his voice full of tenderness and longing._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

When he caressed my ear and neck a heartbeat ago, I had to respond defensively with a retort that only highlighted my insecurity. I studied his face for answers. Once again, I hastened to remind myself that this shouldn't be about…us. My inner conflict has a life all its own.

He could be such a cretin sometimes. I don't know why he always got under my skin.

"Joey's wearing lipstick! Joey's wearing lipstick!" he chanted gleefully when he and Dawson walked into my house unannounced. Mom was outside hanging out the wash and I snuck into her bedroom, curious about all the different colors of eye shadow and lipstick she had in her drawer. I painted a face, then started loading on the jewelry. My mom had such pretty jewelry.

"Get out, get out!" I screamed at both of them. Mom came running in, convinced by my caterwauling that I'd been hurt. I was, just not in the way that she thought. My tears had made a further mess of my facial art.

Mom sat down next to me on the bed and gently wiped everything off with some tissue. Then she grabbed her favorite lipstick, Raspberry Delight, and applied it to her lips. "This is how you do it, Jo-Bear. Less is always more. You try it now," she said, handing me the tube. I looked in the mirror and tried again. "There, see? Beautiful, kissable lips!"

"Mom…" I giggled.

My last girly-girl moment before…

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_His hand glided up her arm to the single piece of jewelry she had chosen to wear. "See this?" he asked, wrapping his fingers in her bracelet. "This is you. It's not showy or gaudy." She looked directly at him and felt her resolve melting away. Again she averted her eyes. "Just simple. Elegant. Beautiful." His voice broke as he took her hand lovingly in his._

"_It's my mom's bracelet," she said in amazement. _

"_I know."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Boys.

How did he know? It shouldn't have taken a rocket scientist, but I realize now that learning which buttons to push actually meant that, in time, Pacey Witter knew me better than anyone else. And I mean _anyone_ else. I don't know why this always surprises me. He's not the dreamy, absent-minded one, he's not one to forget.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"Well, because you told me. Six months ago. You were wearing that, uh, blue sweater with the snowflakes that you have. We were walking down the hallways at school, I was annoying you as per usual." She smiled in recognition. "You said, 'Look, Pacey, I just found my mother's bracelet this morning so why don't you cut me some slack?' "_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

My hands have unconsciously moved down from his solid, broad shoulders to rest discreetly on his chest. It's thrilling and unnerving at the same time to feel that power again. Why am I torturing myself this way? We can't…

Why not, damnit? Why must happiness be forbidden to us like we're a pair of characters in some by-the-numbers melodrama? Two would-be lovers denied the right to feel anything other than friendship for one another. Why must it be about deprivation and not about love?

We both had such a rotten beginning to the school year, and we emerged from it all still licking wounds but bonded together, whole. Two parts of the same puzzle.

"Who knows? You and I might even become friends," he told me then. How could he know that a few words of comfort and a renewed offer of friendship while I was wallowing in self-pity, crying at the end of my dock over another boy, would lead down this path to an even greater love—him?

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_You remember that?" she laughed, touched at his rendering of even the smallest of details. He pulled her closer and whispered huskily in her ear. "I remember everything." _

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I can feel myself losing the battle waging in my head and to dull the cacophony of disquiet emotion, I close my eyes and rest my head on his shoulder. The touch that once empowered me and made me feel, for the first time in my life, womanly, has weakened my determination and inspired a rather disturbing sensation of despair.

True love always seemed an unattainable ideal, the stuff of _Princess Bride_ fairytales. Destiny only brought heartache. If Dawson and I, the couple whom _everyone_—friends, family—apparently thought would ride off into a mythical sunset, couldn't ascend to that romantic utopia, who could? Who else even dared to try? Who could have imagined that it would be Pacey Witter, my nemesis in the childhood tug-of-war for Dawson's attention, who opened me up to that possibility? What a cruel trick of fate that we came so close.

My body relents and I fall deeper into his embrace. I want to apologize and tell him I love him, that I need him, that I told Dawson as much that night…and it only enraged him more. That I know this is unfair…

Cue bitter rival segue.

My heart sinks as I catch a glimpse of Dawson standing across the dance floor, clearly disapproving of my hapless attempt to mend fences; he leaves in a Dawsonian huff. My feet stop following Pacey's, and I pull away to give him a look infused with sorrowful resignation…but his attention is held elsewhere. I turn around and follow his gaze to where Andie is poised in a doorway. The depth of feeling that passes between them is too much for me to bear.

That's all it takes for once-reticent tears to unleash; my feet propel me away. My head only hears my heart beating.

Why, why, why?

There is no _Why,_ there is only _Now. _ Standing before us had been the faces of the people we were hurting. Dawson. Andie.

There is no _Tomorrow, _there is only heartbreak.

And yet the agony would not be complete without the final truth made evident tonight: There is no _End,_ there is only _Love._


	3. Chapter Three: Second Dance

_A bittersweet companion piece from Pacey's POV…_

**Chapter Three**

It was supposed to be my chance to get it right, but instead I got it wrong. I got it all wrong. Why am I doing this? Wouldn't it have been kinder to let her go before Prom? Let her go back to him and get on with her life? My attempts at "finesse" have failed me, my best intentions have led us both awry, and now I have one hurt, very confused girlfriend on my hands.

I just can't…let her touch me anymore. Her desire only weakens my resolve, and I need to be strong here. She doesn't understand now, but she will in time—maybe she'll even forgive me. Starting a new life can do that for a person.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_I've been meaning to ask you something all night, Pacey," she said. He looked up expectantly; a mere swallow washed away dejection and replaced it with hope. "Would you like to dance with me?" His eyes settled on her hand wrapped gently around his. "Yes," he said as a discreet smile danced across his face._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

She led me onto the dance floor and my heart leapt at the promise of a tomorrow. Tomorrow, things could be different; tomorrow, friendships could remain intact; tomorrow, she might even love…me.

Why did she walk across that room and ask me to dance in full view of everyone? She turned to face me and quickly cast her eyes down as if she were terrified to show me her need—but I could feel it, and when she finally looked back at me I could see it as well.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"How come this feels so right?" he asked. His voice was dripping with heartrending sincerity. "I think it was those dance lessons," she said, returning his sentiment with a smile meant only for him._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I couldn't stop looking at her. The whole evening had been a miserable mistake up until that very minute. My presence in that banquet room had made no one happy, least of all my date. And then _she_ smiled and took my hand, and my purpose was restored. No matter what anyone tried to say, no matter how much they protested, _she_ and I together just felt right;_ we _made sense. Or at least I thought we did.

Dancing, or the lack thereof, once got me in a heck of a lot of trouble; I was none too fond of it. But Joey and I dancing…for some reason, we always clicked. I always liked dancing with her, even when we were stepping on each other's toes. She took it so seriously, even in gym class, and then I would glide in there and twirl her—anything to get her off balance so that she would stumble into me; she'd get mad and I'd laugh. She'd never admit it but I think she was having fun, too.

She was a bruised warrior and I was mesmerized.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_He brought his hand up to her face and cradled the diamond earring dangling from her right ear. "Where did you get these?" he asked. "They're not you."_

_Her eyes captured his as she questioned the meaning of those words. "Why?" she asked. "Because I'm just a poor tomboy or 'cause Dawson gave them to me?" She looked down again, humbled for reasons she couldn't begin to articulate. _

"_Neither," he said, his voice full of tenderness and longing._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

She challenged me, always keeping me alert and ready with the familiar comeback—the sweetness and the sarcasm that we both reveled in.

I really had to keep myself together to touch her so intimately in front of an assembly of teens and chaperones and not go any further. To caress her cheek as I examined her earrings and not bring my hand—my face—to those anxious lips. When she dared to look at me, it took everything in me not to succumb to the need to kiss her in front of Dawson and Andie and everyone—the consequences be damned!

How could I prove my love to her? How could I prove that I was worthy?

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_His hand glided up her arm to the single piece of jewelry she had chosen to wear. "See this?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly as he wrapped his fingers in her bracelet. "This is you. It's not showy or gaudy." She looked directly at him and felt her once-purposeful resolve melting away. Again she averted her eyes. "Just simple. Elegant. Beautiful." His breath hitched as he took her hand lovingly in his._

"_It's my mom's bracelet," she said in amazement. _

"_I know."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

She thought that I never paid attention, that I was too easily distracted to really listen. But I did—to her. There were times when I felt I knew her every heart's desire. She wasn't so hard to read; I know she thought she was, but I'd known her long enough to detect how she buried secrets behind a wall of denial.

It's what she thought about _me_ that I couldn't quite figure out.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"Well, because you told me. Six months ago. You were wearing that, uh, blue sweater with the snowflakes that you have. We were walking down the hallways at school, I was annoying you as per usual." She smiled in recognition. "You said, 'Look, Pacey, I just found my mother's bracelet this morning so why don't you cut me some slack?' "_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

We'd spent a day out on a biology assignment, and this time I really was paying attention to what she was saying about snails, their breeding habits and the ubiquitous food pyramid. I spent so much time trying to keep up with her, I forgot to look back—which would have been the wiser thing to do since, in my eagerness to forge ahead, I had neglected to tie up our boat.

_Witter Revelation: Do not venture out into creekside backwaters in the late Fall or Winter. It's friggin' cold! _

It seemed like such a short distance and that we'd be back on dry land in no time, but you try and slog through the marshes in heavy, layered clothing. Joey lost her footing at one point and actually went under. She scared me at first, and then I felt how cold she was and I felt really bad.

By the time we got home, however, she had forgiven me; she was even laughing. We spent a great evening together talking and walking around the local carnival.

I kissed her that night.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"You remember that?" she laughed, touched at his rendering of even the smallest of details. He pulled her closer and whispered huskily in her ear. "I remember everything."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Joey Potter always inspired me to do the most insane things. But the craziest of all was to love _her. _ That first kiss was attraction. Months later, I realized that there was something more: I loved her. But I was too chicken to tell her that—I beat around the bush, I told her everything that implied love without actually saying it; I made her do the arithmetic. Her head must have been spinning with all the figures I threw at her. But still…

She sought me out. Maybe there was something to this, after all. I know what _I_ felt. That she was the most beautiful thing in my orbit…that her skin, which was just starting to regain its golden tone after months of winter covering, was the softest, silkiest thing I'd ever felt…that the sensation of her body melded against mine was the sexiest thing I could imagine…that this "thing" between was impossible to deny, brokenhearted exes notwithstanding.

Who could have guessed that the true love I sought, the love that I thought I would never find—or ever deserve—was standing right next to me all along? Who would have thought that it could hurt so much—to acknowledge each other and still not be able to move forward? Previous commitments, prior loyalties.

I felt her warm breath against my neck and her hands lightly pressed against my chest, and I was overcome with the desire to take those gorgeous hands and run out of that room, his parents' restaurant. I wanted to find a place where we could be. Us.

Cue bitter rival segue.

My heart sank when she stopped her graceful dance and pulled back to give me a most meaningful look. Ironically, for one painful moment, my attention had been captured elsewhere. Andie was standing under one of the decorated arches, her glittery makeup now offsetting her pathos; she wasn't mad but hurt—and, as it turned out, strangely understanding.

Joey was the one mortified, her eyes brimming with tears as she looked from me back to the person standing behind me. I didn't have to turn around to know that Dawson had re-entered the scene. His dramatic departure sent Joey flying after him while I stood alone on the dance floor wondering if there would ever be a time when she would choose to stay with _me_.

My head said no, but my heart still held out hope. She had sought me out, I was reminded again—on more than one occasion—that _had_ to stand for something. Didn't it? Yet I wasn't sure if my heart was strong enough to stand up to reason, and the fact was she inevitably fled.

Two weeks and several frustrating encounters later, I gave up hope when what could have been the sweetest of goodbyes turned into a pathetic whimper of one. Enough crapola. I was determined to sail away on _True Love…_alone. Again, to my surprise, she came after me. She hadn't given up after all. Despite her conflict and my massive insecurities, I have to give her credit for that: she never gave up on us.

Which is why watching her dance with Dawson with that huge smile on her face is so rattling tonight. She is at ease with him in a way that we haven't been together in weeks, maybe months if I'm being really honest. It makes my blood boil to have final confirmation that I was right: her happiness is fated…mine is not.

My heart pounds out its sad refrain. _Why, why, why?_

There is no Why, there is only Now.

There is no Tomorrow,there is only Heartache.

And yet the torture would not be complete without the final truth reconfirmed during this night's passage: There is no End, there is only Love.

I will always, always love her.


	4. Chapter Four: Second Chance

**Chapter Four**

_"We never had the chance to dance at our own prom…"_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It was supposed to be my chance to get it right, but instead I got it all horribly wrong. Why did I think I could do this? Wouldn't it have been kinder just to let. him. go?

Let him go, damnit. Allow find his way in life without me to mess everything up.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

_"In order to make up for our last high school dance experience—in which I did actually buy you a corsage, but then I let it wilt to a lovely shade of brown—I brought you options."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Options. Did we ever really have options? Was it an option to want him…or a curse?

I don't even have the courage to look him in the face again. "Hope dies last," I told Dawson less than a year ago. True or not, I certainly managed to kill that light in Pacey's eyes. Twice.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"In Box A, we have the corsage for the fun-loving and whimsical Joey: a carved radish on a bed of baby carrots. And then Option B, the corsage for the classic and sophisticated Joey: roses on a bed of Baby's Breath, which has a creepy name but is a classic flower." 

**zzzzzzzzzz**

My heart sinks with the knowledge that this time the damage is permanent and unforgivable. Jen was right: even the fearless can have their hearts broken. Unfortunately, in Pacey's case I've managed to stomp on that vital organ a few times—and once more for good measure, just in case either of us missed it before.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_When did we get our picture taken in front of the tropical mural?" he asked, innocent and carefree, determined to make this a happy evening. _

"_That would be prom," she replied, mindful of the poignant memories which swept over her without warning. _

"_Right. Blocked prom out." _

"_As well you should," she retorted. The resonance in her voice became more terse as his proximity invaded her senses._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

How could he just block it out? How could he forget? I try, but my attempts at finesse have failed me, leading us both astray, and now I have one hurt, very confused former boyfriend/erstwhile lover on my hands.

I lied. I told him it was the best time I had ever had at a dance, but that wasn't true at all. I don't know why I said that. Did it make him feel better to hear that…followed by my harsh rejection of him?

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_Even with the damage to my unsuspecting eardrum, I did think that tonight was quite nice," he said with poignant tenderness. _

"_Quite nice," she agreed, smiling. "Perfect. It was... It's been a perfect night."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Ha! The truth was I was uneasy the minute we walked into that acridly sweet-smelling, decidedly over-decorated gym. I couldn't help it, it just didn't feel right. The dream of _us_ had been a wonderful fantasy, but it was one neither Pacey nor I would be able to sustain. That much I knew. How could there be a here and now when all I could think of, all I could hear were voices from our past?

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_So what, you're scared. Right? You're scared and so am I, believe me. And I'm scared because I don't know where this thing is going… As in, I think it could go anywhere. This could be it," he declared with earnest passion._

_She cut him off. "It won't be," she said._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

It couldn't be.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_I've known you too long and seen you push away too many good things to let you push me away right now. My whole life…my whole life you have been the most beautiful thing in my orbit. And my feelings for you were what proved to me that I could be great. And those feelings were stronger and were wiser and more persistent and more resilient than anything else about me." _

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Tears form willingly in my eyes. I want to kiss him, but instead I ask him to stop. He doesn't—not my brave heart.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_When I was afraid of everything, I was never afraid to love you, and I could love you again. I could. I'm telling you, this could…" _

"_Pacey, no. Pacey, stop!" she screamed. Determined to end the torture, she blindsided him with an irrevocable though refracted truth. "Eddie came back," she said._

**zzzzzzzzzz**

I'm astounded by how quickly and how easily I was able to blow him away. Why had I never been able to do that with Dawson? But the love of my life? Right. Ready, aim—fire! Hit him with a cheap shot, and bam!—he's gone before he understands what hit him.

But he's not gone. Not entirely.

**zzzzzzzzzz**

"_If memory serves, I owe you a dance, Ms. Potter."_

**zzzzzzzzzz**

Wallowing in that singular moment of self-destruction, I sit out the rest of the dance waiting for the noise in my head to die down and present a moment of clarity. Pacey reappears, offering his hand—and, with it, a second chance to end this thing between us properly. Dancing.

I look him straight in the eye, I owe him that much, but he pulls me into an awkward embrace and the music surrounds us in melancholy. I recall a song my mom used to play when she was feeling sad. She played sad songs when she was happy, and sad songs when she was sad. But this one had particular meaning for me—a harbinger of bittersweet things to come. "Let's admit we made a mistake," Todd Rundgren sang, "but can we still be friends?"

"It was a mistake…" has become my new mantra.

There is no attempt to make this anything other than what it is: an ending. It is a sorrowful tango of two souls, the poignant and cursed refrain reverberating in my head: _I'm sorry, I'm sorry. _ To ask forgiveness, when heartbreaking sadness and resignation are the only tangible things left in my wake, seems too much…too late.

I love him, and I'm sorry. I'm sorry for testing our fragile friendship. I'm sorry my love hurts. I'm sorry for not being strong enough to let go of the past. I'm sorry for tormenting him with the faint promise of a future. I'm sorry for using someone else as an excuse for not moving on. I'm sorry for moving on.

I want to cry but cannot; I will not. The music ends and we stop going in circles. A smile of understanding countenances his face. He walks away in silence, leaving me to face the regret burned into the dance floor. I cede my memory to a journal kept back in 'Potter's House of Pain'…

The dreams of not one but two

—Two who were once one—

Were crushed this night

Despair has replaced hope

Finality overwhelms us

One unassailable truth remains:

He was, and is, my undoing


	5. Chapter Five: New Shoes

_I almost didn't put this up because it's so hard to do a story about dancing without including the music that bound PJ together as well._

_If you know the "Love Bites" segment of DC, imagine "Just Another" by Pete Yorn playing in the background here…_

_I hope it works!_

zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

**Chapter Five**

"_Pacey's stepping on my toes. Will you take him back, please?"_

_"It's a conspiracy. New shoes, I think."_

"_New shoes."_

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

The last time we danced together, I polished up the old Oxfords like I was expecting a Marine inspection. I put a new sheen on the old, the comfortable, thinking that I could reinvent our relationship. But I pushed too hard; she wasn't ready.

I couldn't allow myself to see that.

Hindsight being 20/20 and all that, I realize now that I didn't _want_ to see it—her distress, I mean. After two years of denying the history between us, we were finally back in sync. There was the beginnings of an "us" again. I know we both sensed that. And…

She looked so beautiful in that pale yellow dress. So beautiful—a vision of light. To pry my eyes away from her would have been sacrilege. Not that that was a new development, but what I was feeling seemed brand new. More precisely, born again… mature…real.

I took her arm in mine, happy and hardy, and we walked into that auditorium on such a cloud of euphoric expectations. The blissful, slightly dissonant chatter going on inside my head could not be silenced. This was our second chance dance!

I failed to recognize how formal she'd suddenly become, how tense. We bantered, seemingly like we always did except that—and here's that hindsight again—I was extending the frivolity and she was being blatantly honest; she was scared.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

_"Harley, you're not the first woman in the history of semi-formals to accompany a non-dancing date," she said, confiding admonishment. "Mr. Witter over here was famously uncooperative when it came to the booty shake."_

"_Hey, I danced," he protested good-naturedly._

"_Under duress! And he broke up with me at our senior prom, so we never had the chance to dance at our own prom."_

"_Okay. Dirty laundry, Jo. Let it go," he said. He silently chastised himself for being a bit too curt as well as a bit too quick._

"_Had to be said," she retorted, feeling the knife twist ever so slightly._

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

I was a dumbass. Why didn't I see that I was excited about our reunion for much the same reason that she was terrified? I wanted to mend an old wound while she was still healing.

I thought that the pain that we'd mutually inflicted on each other had magically disappeared, but she simply figured out how to bury it even deeper. When I finally took time to listen, I realized that 'forlorn' was still in her present. I couldn't push her and make it right. The only thing left to do was to leave.

Yeah, well.

Leaving her never made anything right. Halfway down the block, my Sad Sack heart intervened, telling me I owed her more than that melodramatic departure. I should offer her a happier ending, unlike the unfinished one left precariously dangling there two years before. I refused to repeat mistakes of the past and play ping pong with her heart. I needed to let her know that I still cared, still loved her—I would always love her. I would never hold it against her that she couldn't go through with it.

So I went back and asked her to dance.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

The music had already begun and there we were again: stuck in a groove etched into memory two heartbeats ago. How did hope die so quickly? That seemed one of the great mysteries of life I might never be privy to. All I knew is that I was holding her in my arms one last time…

Our imperfect song of commiseration ended and I placed my hands around hers, joined one on top of the other, reconnecting that inner circle of sanctity and well-being. I walked away without looking back—physically, that is; mentally, the refrain continued. All I could think of was that history would again prove my brother Doug right: there was no way in hell I could leave that woman and not see her face everywhere I turned.

_Doug was right…_

That millennium summer I tried running away, I saw her face in every starlit night…in every sail as it unfurled…on the edges of waves as we came into port…and every goddamn time I closed my eyes. I was taunted by hazy images of her laying next to me as the early morning light tumbled down the stairs below deck…the warm, sweet sensation of her asleep in my arms.

Our first two ports of call, I was afraid to go into town, convinced there would be more visions of her or, worse, someone who looked like her. Walking down the street…sipping on a Diet Coke…tucked away in the loneliest corner of a restaurant. She haunted every waking and sleeping breath. That is, until the obvious dawned on me: that there was _no one_ exactly like her.

It was Joey Potter who was the anomaly in my life.

After awhile, I began to relax as I allowed myself a measure of forgiveness, and I began to look forward to seeing that luminescent face—because it tormented me less. As days ran into nights and then weeks, I persuaded myself that she'd forgiven me, in her way. She might not be able to say it, but she would understand that we were both too young and immature to shoulder the pain of separate futures; our disastrous end had been fated.

I wrote her a letter but I never heard back from her. I had to see her again.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

Within a week of arriving in Boston, my buddy Jen—dear Jen—had tracked me down to Dean Kubelik's boat slip in the Commonwealth Marina. Though protesting mild irritation, I was actually happy to see her and get a full report on the Minuteman gang. She made sure I knew exactly what Joey had been up to over the summer (working non-stop, of course) and what dorm she was staying in on the Worthington campus.

I had to see for myself that Jo was okay. An hour after arriving on campus, I saw her jogging across the commons, then pop into a coffee shop. That brief appearance put a smile on my face for the next week. I was content knowing that I had been right, she was thriving in this new environment.

Without me.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

_She was never "just another" anything…_

Learning how to survive on our own had always been a common thread between us. A reality that settled on us before we even crossed the teen threshold.

"Pacey, when you learn to flip this here hotcake, people will wonder how they evah made it without you," Bessie's new boyfriend informed me as he skillfully and methodically tackled the breakfast rush at The Ice House.

"Sure, Bodi, sure."

"No, I mean it. You think yah gettin' off easy, hiding out from truant officers here, but I'm gonna teach ya what it really means to take pride in somethin' and do it well."

"Okay."

"And after that you have to promise me something."

"I…I…What do you mean, exactly?"

"Joey's mother had a really bad night. I think Joey's probably _upset_…but I haven't had a chance to talk to her because I had to set up for breakfast. Will ya check in on her for me?"

"I guess so…"

"She could use a hug right now, Pace."

I remember looking up. That was the first time anyone had ever treated me like an adult. "About the hugging part…"

"Do what ya can, 'K?"

His challenge inspired another first in Witter family history: Pacey J. Witter actually sneaking back **into** school. I found Joey in the back stacks of the library, pretending to read but not turning pages. The dark circles under her eyes had deepened; her hair, normally loosely pulled back into a ponytail, hid her face from view. Sitting down on the floor next to her, I could feel her turmoil reverberating between us.

"Hey, Jo, what language are you going to take next year: Spanish, German or French?"

"What?" she said, obviously perturbed.

"I just wondered."

"Well, I've been taking Spanish on and off since the 4th grade so, being a pragmatist," she snarked—despair hadn't diminished her ability to throw those verbal zingers, "I guess it's going to be Spanish."

"Not the language of love?" I asked, pretending to be disappointed.

"Why would I waste my time?"

"Okay then, what will you do when you go to study at the Sorbonne?" Joey didn't answer but stared dreamily off into space. "I guess you could use hand signals…"

Suddenly, the slightest of smiles lit her face and I took the opportunity to kiss her on the cheek.

"What the…"

"That was from Bodi," I explained quite naturally, quickly rebounding from the brief display of unmanly emotion.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

But then I never really needed much of an excuse to kiss her—stopping was the hard part. Stopping when all I wanted to do was reassure her, ravish her…make love to her on the dock without a care in the world.

Make love, not war. Detonate this unearthly silence between us, a self-imposed deténte fostered by a young man's escalating and irrational fear of divergent paths.

But we didn't make love.

Instead, we sat on that dock, once the path to freedom, and held hands, silently reassuring each other. We were unsparingly objective, if that was possible. This parting of lovers held out little hope for a continued future. Inevitability had become our harsh truth. While both of us fought against it, even those meager struggles had been strangely out of whack; we thought we didn't deserve any better.

Good fortune smiled elsewhere.

She clasped my hand in hers—it was so damn hard to let go! We couldn't even speak. We just watched the town wake up as a part of us died. Gradually, our breathing became calmer and she raised my hand to her lips, kissed it, and we both summoned up the courage to let go.

A killer ending to beat any pseudo-romanticschmaltz.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

_I let her walk away…_

I kicked another rock down the street as I called forth a happier memory: Joey kissing my hand and pulling both of us into the water. An incredible moonlit night with the warm Atlantic shimmering all around us.

She splashed iridescent water and challenged me to race her to the beach. The Carolinas have beautiful stretches of secluded beach and this was certainly one of them. I tried to grab her leg, hoping to disarm her by pulling her under, but she was too wily for me. She kicked and screamed her way on to solid ground.

If I didn't know better, I might have suspected that she purposely let me win—because my "prize" was a seductive dance on the beach. Joey moving her hips in time with music faraway as she gracefully waved around imaginary scarves. Teasingly, playfully.

She was unbearably sexy, and I was in heaven. I caught her hand and pulled her down to the blanket.

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

It was time for another change of Pace.

It's been five indeterminable years since that heartbreaking dance of regret at the Milton semi-formal. Time enough for wounds to heal, scars to fade, and the only memories remaining to be about the best of times.

"_May I have this dance, Ms. Potter?"_

"_Of course, Mr. Witter."_

Fittingly, it was in Dawson Leery's backyard that we've found a way to begin our dance again.

We haven't seen each other for months—excluding a ruckus evening the night before—evenso, it seemed perfectly natural to retrieve her from her solitary stance at Gale & Richard's wedding celebration. Okay, I couldn't resist making that connection again. There aren't many opportunities a man has to take Joey Potter into his arms and I wasn't going to torpedo this one.

Mrs. Maddie Allen almost did that for me with her appearance just off the elevated confines of the dance floor. Hesitance turned into inspiration as I implored Joey for help and then ensnared her lips, executing a familiar kiss and dip maneuver. I felt like John Travolta V.1. It was _electrifyin'_.

I've made her think that the kiss didn't matter, but of course it did—it does—and it's taken everything in me to affect some nonchalance about it. I know she's living with someone. In fact, I have to admit that she seems happy. But I caught a glimpse of something unexpected. Was that contentment or longing that I witnessed reflected back in her eyes?

_Je ne sais quoi._

Those eyes will be the death of me yet. Suddenly, I'm as confused as she apparently is.

Could it be?

Dare I hope?

The only thing I know for certain was that we're both wearing new shoes.

And…

I remember the eerie prognostications of a carnival psychic. The Magic 8 ball said: "Signs point to Yes."


	6. Chapter Six: Full Circle

**Chapter Six**

_She._

_From the moment I saw her, I knew. She, would change everything. How I looked at the world, how I saw myself, how I imagined us. Our past folding meaningfully into the present, imbuing an indefinite, monochromatic future with richness, color—depth. _

_Past—willful, stubborn, quick to anger, easy to forgive. Beauty lit magically from within. Present—love, need, desire. Intoxicating, compelling._

_She, is the fresh wind guiding us home._

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

"Daddy?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"I want to learn to dance."

"You will. Mommy will teach you to dance. Mommy's a very good dancer."

"Mommy's too big to dance!"

Pacey nearly choked on his fruit punch. "Later. After your brothers come, mommy will show you. I promise you."

"Now, Daddy," Jenny said, tugging at her father's sleeve. "I want to dance now."

"Sweetie, I think Amy wants to show you her presents. It's her birthday party…"

"Amy dances with Uncle Jack. He even sings songs to her."

"He does?" Pacey said in mock surprise.

"And you dance with Mommy in the bedroom. Sometimes I hear you humming with her."

"Ahem. Hum?"

"Yes. You know…"

"Okay, okay," he said, getting up quickly from the party table. He bowed. "Miss Witter? May I have this dance?"

"Daddy, you're supposed to hold out your hand."

"May I have this dance, kind Miss?" he said, delicately holding her little hand in his much larger one.

Jenny giggled as they walked out onto the lawn. "Yes, you may, Daddy. What do I do now?"

"Stand on my shoes and I'll show you. That's it. Let's pretend we're dancing inside a box. Now, one…two…three…four. See?"

"Do that again," Jenny said, looking down at her shiny new patent leather shoes balanced on top of daddy's more comfortable loafers.

Pacey gestured with his feet. "Here's the corner of the box: one. Now the other corner: two. Down to this corner: three. And over to the last corner: four." He repeated the sequence. "One…two…three…four."

"Do that again, Daddy!"

"You're just like your mother," Pacey said, smiling.

"I am?"

"The first time I met her she was five years old," he said as if he were sharing a very special secret.

"I'm almost four and a half!"

"Yes, you are. And you are very wise for your years, Miss Witter."

"How did you do that, Daddy? You turned us around."

"Like this? I just made a bigger box. See?"

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

_From the moment we conceived her, I knew. She, is the choice that changed everything. Everything—from within and without. Having and wanting recede as giving and sharing take hold, selfless. The future, unpredictable yet constant. "Us" evolving naturally, spiritually into a Witter party of three. Joey, Pacey and…_

_She._

_A fire pistol. A dynamo—like her namesake. Tall for her tender years, but with an ingratiating personality that has made her nearly impossible to resist. To like and to love._

_To be willing to die for…lay down your life for._

_She._

_Soulful blue eyes reflecting both her mom and pop. A tangle of long dark hair that is unmistakably Potter, with soft curls that are definitely Witter. Quick wit—that's dad; fearless ambition—mom._

_With none of her parents' childhood insecurities informing her present. Amazing. How did she manage that?_

_She._

_Inspired patience…growing confidence…a willingness to take one's time and do it right. Because having a child together meant getting a second, maybe even a third or fourth chance. Love no longer at risk but held firm, close, true._

_The sum of it all…_

_She._

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

"Joey Potter."

I didn't turn around at first. It's been so long since anyone called me that. But the voice seemed familiar…and, when I looked over my shoulder, the face definitely was. Sunday football. Stats: New England Patriots – Quarterback. Career high: 4110 yds passing (2008-2009 season).

"Henry Parker. What are you doing here?"

"My parents are selling the house. I succumbed to a nostalgic moment and decided to see how things were going in Capeside. You stayed, I see."

"No, we're just visiting for the weekend. A last minute pre-baby getaway."

"When are you due?"

"Six weeks. The end of October, to be exact."

Henry seemed surprised. Joey, normally petite for a woman her height, looked close to full-term to him, virtually bursting at the seams.

"Twins," she said, catching his expression.

"Do you know…"

"Shh!" she said conspiratorially. "We haven't told anyone yet. Boys. Two boys. That's it, we're sunk!"

Henry laughed. "So who's the lucky daddy?"

"My husband's over there, dancing with our daughter on the grass. You know him, actually. Pacey Witter?"

"Yes, of course. Pacey. So you sailed through the storm and there was a happy ending after all."

"After a shipwreck and one failed attempt to get past the breakwater. But the third time was…"

"Something of a miracle."

"You could say that. So what brings you here, Henry? To a six year-old's birthday party of all things."

"I ran into Jack at the market and started asking about people. I didn't know about…"

"Jen? I'm so sorry, Henry. I had hoped your parents might see the notice in the _Capeside Clarion._"

"No," he said softly, "they didn't. Anyway, Amy was with Jack at the market and she invited me to her birthday party. She's a spittin' image of her, you know."

"Yeah, in all except one important detail." Henry looked askance at Joey. "That girl is always gonna know she's loved—by her mom _and_ her two dads."

A tear slipped down Henry's cheek and Joey put her hand on his, reassuringly.

"Jenny! Jenny! Come on and play!"

"In a minute! I'm dancing with Daddy!"

Henry turned around quickly, looking in Jenny and Pacey's direction, admiring them with newfound tenderness. He swiveled back to see Joey smile broadly as she shrugged in response to the unasked question.

"Jen was an awfully meddlesome matchmaker, don't you think?"

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

"Tell me the story about when you met Mommy," Jenny insisted.

"No, no. Not again!" Pacey Witter winked back at his wife.

"Please?"

"All right…but I have to tell you that your mom was one crazy little girl!"

"She was not!"

"Yes, she was. Ask her."

Jenny tossed a glance back her mother's way and saw her comically shrugging as she talked to a tall blond stranger. "Was she mad at you, Daddy? she whispered dramatically.

"That was pretty much a given…from the moment we met," her father concurred.

"Did she beat you up?"

Pacey cleared his throat. "Now, let's not get too far ahead of the story."

"Well?"

"The first time I ever saw her…she…"

Again, his eyes were drawn to the woman seated scarcely a few feet away from them. She leaned back in her chair, trying to get comfortable. The diffused light filtering through the trees provided a picture-perfect backlight for her shoulder-length hair. Pacey returned her grin.

"She was dancing in a butterfly pavilion, and it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. Her hands would reach out to butterflies of all sizes and colors. And then she would twirl around—like this!"

"Whee!"

"And the butterflies would dance around her face while she danced around them."

"Why did she yell at you, Daddy?"

"I wanted to get closer. I was supposed to be guarding the door, but I forgot and opened the screen to walk in. Some of the butterflies started to get out."

"Did she chase you?"

"Not yet. She slammed the door on my hand."

"Ouch!"

"Yes, ouch. Later on, at Uncle Dawson's birthday party, she was still mad and wouldn't speak to me. I showed her some of the butterflies I had caught in a jar…"

"And then she started chasing you."

"All the way down the dock."

"You were a very naughty boy."

**zzzzzzzzzzz**

A benevolent smile warmed the contours Mrs. Witter's face, reflecting her inner delight as she listened to her daughter gradually becoming in tune with the art of verbal jousting with her father.

_Her dad. The "he" that conjoined and made "she". A loving father, an adoring daughter—the perfect blend. The yin and yang that made…_

_Them, now "us"._

The triumvirate soon to expand and welcome home two additions to the family. A shifting of balance as sure as the waves resettling the white sand on the beach. Independent entities tied together by blood and familial bonds, later shared histories and…

Hope.

_First love is pure and innocent, Joey thought as she observed her daughter's blissful rapport with her dad. It's love untarnished by the wariness of a broken heart. A love not to be held above the others but to be recognized as unique, special…_

_Empowering._

Pacey Witter did that for her. He challenged her, made her believe that escaping a predestined lot was her due, her right…

Her responsibility.

"Don't bet against that Potter girl," he comforted her. It had been wrong to think that anyone else could ever be her soulmate. For no one else knew her as well, fought for her as heartily…

Loved her as much. Fully, completely—despite their mutual insecurities and vulnerabilities.

_We recognize love not in spite of our flaws but because of them, she had learned. Imperfect perfection found in each other, embraced, understood and made whole by…_

_Love—constant, unmovable, triumphant over human frailty. Love, true love, had heart, soul, wit._

Pacey.

His love grounded them both. Allowed them to dream outside the box. Two parts, one soul. Finding affirmation, they twisted and pulled at the bonds, testing…drifting away but always coming back together one more time.

For one more dance.

Because Penny Pretty was right: the dancing never lied. The dancing was all about…

**Us.**


End file.
